Digested
by WatchingCircinus
Summary: Julius wakes up with no sense of where he is – his arms and legs are bound tightly with vines, and he's suspended in the air. His pokemon are nowhere to be found. A woman he's never met begins to interrogate him – she accuses him of trying to steal from her. Julius pleads his ignorance, but as the terrible fate beneath him is revealed, things get desperate.
1. Digested

Julius tried to open his eyes, but couldn't; they were gummed shut, with fluid secretions from his unconscious body. He struggled, managed to force one of the lids open. A shard of bright light slit his pupil. He eased open the other, blinking awake into the white and grey room. The walls were high and clean-scrubbed, windowless. Everything was strangely skewed, as if he were looking down on it. He had no idea where he was.

With a jolt Julius realised that he _was_ looking down. His body dangled high above the marble floor, and he could see the tops of the crates that were stacked along the wall. With a grunt he tried to move his arms, but couldn't; they were bound tight to his sides with thick rope. He squirmed, and his body rocked back and forth slightly, suspended in the air. The ropes were smooth and seemed to press harder the more he struggled, pushing the breath out of him. A feeling of dread sank into his stomach. He dropped his chin to his chest and looked down at his own torso; he was wrapped, not in ropes, but in poisonous green vines. Julius felt a surge of panic and shouted to the empty room.

From below came muffled laughter.

"Ah, so our guest is awake. Pookie, why didn't you tell me?" said a voice.

From beneath Julius' feet there came a high-pitched cry. The vines holding him curled tighter.

Light footsteps echoed off the marble. Julius strained sideways to see his interlocutor, but the vines squeezed so hard that they forced the blood into his face. The voice spoke again, much closer now: "Do you know who I am?" it asked.

It sounded like a woman's voice; Julius didn't recognise it.

"No," he gasped.

"Are you sure?"

She stepped into view. The woman had platinum blonde hair and silvery skin; her lips were thin and bright red, and a pale scar traced its way down her left cheek. She was smiling, but her eyes were cold.

"I don't know who you are," said Julius, wheezing.

"Pookie, loosen up a little bit. The poor man can hardly breathe."

Another small scream from beneath his feet, and the vines loosened.

"Tsk tsk. How rude, young man, to not even make an effort to make my acquaintance. That is, before you broke into my basement."

"I didn't realise – I don't know what's going on."

The woman smiled and shook her head. "If you tell me what you were after, I might forgive you."

"Please, I don't know. I was just snooping around, and I ended up down there."

"Just wandering about innocently, taking out my guards. I certainly believe that."

A low rumbling growl echoed through the chamber. Julius felt hot tears in his eyes. He was panting, and his head felt like it might burst.

The woman was standing with one hand on her hip, waiting for more. At length she sighed, bared her teeth in a horrible simulation of a smile.

"Perhaps I should introduce you to my friend, while you're just hanging around. This is Pookie – I think he likes you."

Another shrill scream reverberated through Julius's skull, one that vibrated the vines around his body. He felt himself being tipped forward, almost flipped upside down – blood rushed up to his temples, and his body dangled limply.

Beneath him was the most enormous victreebel he'd ever seen.

It was holding him, suspended, above its giant gaping mouth. Purple-tinged saliva was gathered around it's cup, and he could see passed the jutting teeth into the abysmal black of its gut.

"Do you know much about victreebels?" the woman asked.

"No – I've only just started out as a trainer – please, let me go."

"You want Pookie to let you go? Are you sure? The acid in his cup will eat right through your skin. You'll feel his enzymes breaking down your body; it'll be slow, very slow, and you'll feel every second. But if that's what you want."

"No!" shrieked Julius.

"Then I suggest you tell me why you broke into my basement and attacked my men. What were you trying to steal?"

"Please," sobbed Julius, "I wasn't trying to steal anything. I'm just a kid."

"Hmm, according to your ID card you're 18, Julius Stowitch. Hardly a child, I'd say."

Julius could see the acid in the victreebel's gut, secreted through the walls of its cup. There was something else in there, something pink and bubbling, dissolving into the pokemon's flesh. He looked away.

"I don't think you quite understand the situation, Mr. Stowitch. See, if you don't tell me what you were trying to steal, Pookie will drop you into his stomach. You won't be able to get out – the lining of his cup is too slippery, and if you try he'll simply push you back in. It will take hours for you to be digested – days even. He'll strip you back bit by bit, your skin, your flesh, the whites of your eyes. You'll not just die but cease to exist – Pookie will absorb you and you'll become a part of him, the sheen in his leaves, the calcium in his teeth. It's beautiful, really – gives a whole new meaning to the phrase "eaten alive". So please, tell me what you were doing."

"I wasn't doing anything – you have to believe me. I was just looking for people to battle."

"And you thought the place to do that was in our secret basement?"

"I didn't know! I just wanted an adventure. I was following my instincts - a trainer has to go after the unknown."

"Hmm. It can get you killed, following your gut like that." She smiled, and the victreebel shuddered. Julius watched the pink something in its gut tremor – it almost looked like it was moving of its own accord, struggling to push through the digestive juices. Bile rose to Julius' throat.

A deep growl rolled across the room again.

"Ah, yes. I haven't forgotten you, Drudd."

Julius craned his neck back to see what was behind him, but the victreebel jerked him violently.

"Drudd has taken a liking to you too, Mr. Stowitch. See, Pookie can eat everything but the bones – they're too hard, and in any case Pookie doesn't need much of what they provide, not having any himself. So he'll spit them back up and Drudd will eat them – he likes the sensation of crushing them to dust."

Drudd emitted a low roar which sounded almost like a purr.

"Okay!" shouted Julius. "I'll tell you. For god's sake don't drop me into that monster! I was looking for the Pokemon, the ones you stole from the professor – I was going to set them free."

The woman smiled broadly. "Oh, well if that was all, why didn't you say so? Pookie, release this fine young trainer so that he can go free."

The vines started to loosen – Julius felt them slipping from around him, spasms wracking his muscles as the pressure lifted.

"Next time, don't mess with Team Rocket," the woman said, and turned away.

"Wait," he shouted as the vines untangled themselves, "No!" He grabbed at them desperately, and found himself clutching air. The low growl rumbled through the room like a hungered stomach, and the high screech filled his ears. The last thing Julius saw as he plummeted into the victreebel's bowels was the amorphous pink blob, which seemed to be reaching toward him with something horribly like a human hand, with partially digested fingers. Then pain erupted through every fibre of his being, his skin scalded by the bubbling acid, and as he felt it beginning to melt him away he blacked out.


	2. Sirens

Julius could hear sirens. Blue and red burst inside his head, retinal fireworks carved into his brain. He didn't try to open his eyes.

His body felt like it was swelling beyond its own limits – bubbling, pushing out through blistering skin. Spasms, like his nerves lit on fire, from the extremities of his fingers to the depths of his bone shrieking in burning torment. He felt as if he were about to collapse in on himself.

"We're losing him – another pulse," said a voice somewhere above him. Julius felt his muscles curl, his skeleton giving up.

"Another heal pulse!"

 _Audinoo._

Julius remembered the time he and Clara had gone to the movies to see _Island of the Giant Chansey._ The plot was terrible, but he'd liked sitting with his best friend and laughing at all the stupid dialogue. He wondered why he was thinking of that now, when he didn't know where he was, with the lick of death pressing close.

 _Audinoo._

The pain was ebbing away, but it was taking his consciousness with it. He felt giddy, almost wanted to laugh, but didn't have the energy to move his cheeks. The sound of the siren sank away, hiding behind his eardrums in the soft surface beneath his head. The lights inside his brain went out.

A rhythmical beeping, like a metronome or a car indicator, soothing and slow; Julius swam up from the pitch black and didn't dare to look down.

There was the sound of clicked heels on polished floor; murmurs from afar; pidgeys singing outside the window. Julius could hear before he could see, felt his own shallow breath, realised that the beeping was keeping time with his heart. He wrenched his eyes open.

The hospital was grey and white, and it was morning. An audino stood at the end of the bed. As he blinked awake it passed its dewdrop blue eyes over him and then left the room. A human nurse followed it back in.

"You're awake," the nurse said. He had short blue hair and a drop of blood on his collar. Julius couldn't focus on anything else; blue and red, like a siren going off in his head.

He groaned and tried to move. The young nurse put his hand out. "You've been through a huge ordeal. You should rest. There was someone here to see you, but we thought it best if you were alone."

"Hhh..Whh..."

"Try not to exert yourself."

"Wh...who?"

"The visitor was your emergency contact – Clara Wood."

"Sss...ssss..." Julius could feel his tongue rolling around in his mouth, unable to tap out the right tunes on his teeth. "Ssssend C-clara."

"Alright sir," said the blue-haired nurse. "In the meantime try to rest."

Julius figured he must have fallen asleep again before Clara got there, but when he woke she was sitting at the end of the bed. Through his half-opened eyes he caught an unguarded, dismayed look – but when he said her name, the disgust was shuffled behind a forced smile.

"Julius. Oh my god, I'm so glad you're ok. I thought..."

"C-clara."

"Yes?"

With great effort Julius pushed the words from his chest, up his throat. "M-my Pokem-mon?"

Clara looked away.

"C-clara?"

"The police don't know where they are. Oh Julius, what were you doing down there? What happened?"

"D-don't know. Wwoke up – victreebel..."

Clara covered her mouth with a hand. "They said when they found you, you were lying on the warehouse floor. The cops were doing a bust – got there just in time to save you." Her gaze lingered too long on his face, and she looked away guiltily.

"Clara?"

"Yes?"

"M-my body...what is it?"

She wouldn't meet his eyes.

"I-I have to know."

"I don't think you should."

"Please."

His old friend dug around in her handbag, and came up with a pocket mirror. She slid closer to him, rumpling the sheets, and he could smell her perfume. Her gaze kept flicking away, as if she didn't know where to look. She held the mirror up in front of his face.

Julius' stomach dropped. For a moment he was confused – the thing, in the mirror, wasn't him. A mass of pink and red, with jagged lines and peeling scabs. Then he saw the eyes, tin grey, the way they followed his own movements; a strand of copper hair hanging down his forehead. That was him. Beneath the twisted, scarred mess. He'd been dissolved, burned, torn away from himself in the gut of the victreebel. He couldn't look anymore. He closed his eyes.

Clara's hand wrapped around his, but shards of pain burst from her touch, and he wrenched his arm away.

Julius' recovery was slow. After the skin graft, the intensive sessions with audino and blissey, flicking endlessly through the hospital TV so he wouldn't have to think about the horror he had seen in that mirror, he was released. At night he woke surrounded by a suffocating black, listening to a horrible elongated cry that only after several seconds he recognised as his own. He saw Clara often, but he couldn't help but notice the way her eyes darted around, bouncing off his skin, unable to see inside. He broke loaves into breadcrumbs and fed the spearows in his yard.

One day he found an advertisement online, for Hypnotherapy. They used actual hypnos. Julius didn't feel much physical pain anymore, but he did want to sleep without falling again into the acidic bowels of the monster. He went to the therapy, but it didn't help. The pokemon's eyes grew so wide they swallowed the sky, and he fell into them, into sleep, but he'd wake again from the screaming sweating warehouse floor. Platinum blonde clouds and the ground beneath him cracking open like a pale scar.

Clara brought him food from the bakery, with his favourite powdered doughnuts. They sat side by side, so she wouldn't have to look at him – Julius made it that way. Clara had been planning to head off on her own trainer adventure with squirtle, but now it was different. Julius often asked about his own pokemon, if anything had been heard, and she'd shake her head. But one day she had news.

They were sitting outside feeding the spearows, and suddenly she was telling him about what she'd overheard outside the police station.

"They said there's a local branch of Team Rocket setting up in the abandoned department store – if your pokemon are anywhere, they'll be in there."

Julius took a bite out of his doughnut and chewed slowly. "I can't imagine what they're going through."

"They'll be in their balls, I'm sure they won't have been hurt."

"Still, trapped by Team Rocket. Who knows what those criminals are planning."

"Whatever it is, your pokemon probably won't be involved – Team Rocket don't care about rattatas and pidgeys. They only want rare pokemon."

"Oh? And what about bulbasaur? scyther?"

Clara shifted uncomfortably. "The rarer ones will have been shipped away a long time ago. But your common pokemon, they'll just be sitting somewhere in storage. Maybe even released – who knows, pidgey might find her way back here."

Julius tore another piece off his doughnut. Anger burned in his chest, sudden and violent, built up over sleepless nights and restless days. "I'm going to find them," he said.

Clara looked shocked. "You can't. That's a suicide mission – you can't tangle with Team Rocket again."

"I can't sit around here either – laying about until my brain goes soft. I might as well have been dissolved by the monster."

"Julius, don't say that."

"I'm going after them – you can't stop me."

"Doesn't Team Rocket scare you?"

"Of course they bloody do!" he shouted, sending the spearows flying. "But I'm scared anyway. I'm scared all the time – I need to do something. I need to save my pokemon."

Clara looked at him, the longest she'd held his gaze in weeks. The pumping in his heart grew louder.

"I'm going to the abandoned department store – I'll rescue my friends if it's the last thing I do."

Clara sighed, watching the spearows wheel about and settle in the trees. "I'm going with you. I can't sit by and let my best friend get himself killed."

"Clara, you can't – ,"

"Don't even try that with me, Julius. If you're planning something so unbelievably stupid you can bet I'll be by your side. Besides, you don't have any pokemon."

Julius flinched, but she didn't notice.

"Squirtle will be good, and I'll take butterfree out of the box, he has a good sleep powder..."

She was trailing off into a business-like manner. Julius smiled. It was almost like old times, the two of them planning an adventure together. But Julius' heart felt hard – he would make no more room for fear, or feeling. Feeling had been burned out of him in an acid bath.

He looked down at his hands, white scars criss-crossing his skin. _I'll find you_ he said to himself. _And I'll find that monster. And when I do..._

The spearows swooped down and gobbled up the crumbs.

Julius no longer had anything to lose.


	3. Journey

Julius was kneeling on the front step of the house, lacing up his boots. Clara stood over him with her hands on her hips.

"And where exactly are you going?" she asked.

"On a journey."

"I'm not letting you go to the Rocket hideout on your own."

"That's not where I'm going." He stood up, looked her in the eye. She flinched imperceptibly.

"Where, then?"

"Just, away. I'll be back in a few days." He checked the knife in his belt, relishing the smooth sound it made as it slid through the leather holster. Sunlight glinted off the blade.

"What is that?" Clara asked, suppressing a laugh. He sheathed it again.

"Protection. I don't have any pokemon – I'm not about to get mugged on the road."

"Do you want to borrow squirtle?"

He shook his head. "I'd rather be alone."

...

There were lots of trainers out on Route Seven as Julius picked his way across the fields. Many of them were kids, too young to even have a license. They looked up as he approached, eager for a battle, and then recoiled in horror at the sight of his skin. The midday sun cast dramatic shadows around the uneven surfaces of his face and hands; he wore long sleeves and pants to hide it as much as possible, though it was sweltering. His cheeks blushed with the heat.

Mostly the trainers were using forest pokemon from the local area – pidgeottos and oddishes, the occasional vulpix. One girl, maybe fifteen or so, was wringing her hands in frustration. "Come on, Abra, don't just teleport," she cried, "you need to attack." The opposing gloom sent a glittering sun-spore towards it, and the Abra vanished.

By mid-afternoon Julius could see the glass and steel glint of Saffron City at the horizon. He'd never visited it before, and felt even less interest now. The silver spires rose into the sky, but he looked instead at his boots.

"Hey, what's that?" said a young trainer, sticking his head out of the long grass beside Julius. Julius ignored him and kept walking. He was sick of being a spectacle, a walking exhibition of the grotesque.

"Woah, that must be some battle," the kid said.

Julius looked up, saw that the boy was pointing down the track, one hand shielding his eyes. A short distance ahead a huge cloud of dust was blooming, occluding the sun and tinting the landscape in oranges and reds. Julius turned to the kid; the boy started at the sight of his face, but then grinned. "I'm gonna go check it out," he said, leaping over the tall grass and scampering down the road. Julius followed at his regular pace.

The cause of the dirt-storm was two titans, locked in combat. One was a rhydon, kicking up dust, two massive grey arms wrestling with its opponent. The other was a charizard, its flapping winds sending miniature twisters in all directions. Rocks, tree roots and sand lifted into the air.

"Hit him with a flamethrower!" shouted one of the trainers, who stood a good distance from the struggling pokemon. The charizard opened its jaws and sent a stream of fire at its opponent, bright yellow and white engulfing the rhydon. Julius could feel the heat, even across the hundred metres separating him from the battle. The rhydon stood its ground, arms crossed over its forehead – the flames bounced off the thick hide, sending loose cinders into the fringing forest. Black smoke twined into the air.

"Rhydon, get her with a smack down, now!" shouted the other trainer.

Julius coughed, smoke and dirt filling his nostrils. The ground shook as ninety kilos of dragon was slammed into it. The charizard roared in pain.

"Wing attack, wing attack! Quickly, get up, fly away!"

There was a gust of wind and a rumbling growl. The charizard was flailing, unable to get airborne.

"Rhydon, earthquake, before she gets away."

The ground shook from the rhydons impact, fissures opening up as rocks split apart. Julius stumbled, the reverberations of the earth rattling his teeth; he fell, grazing the heels of his hands, dirt whipping his face. Without looking up to see the result of the rhydons attack, he stood and walked away, his palms stinging.

Julius felt a kind of ache, now, every time he saw trainers battle; it was something hard and acidic that rose into the back of his throat, a kind of loss, mourning for a future he no longer had. He used to be like these others, having adventures in the wild, bonding with his pokemon through trial. Now he had no pokemon – now his thirst for adventure had been replaced by anger, tainted by loss. Julius swilled dirt and saliva around inside his mouth and spat it out on the path.

He could still hear distant booms as he reached the edge of Saffron city. The skeletal sky-scrapers, like glass monuments to another world, loomed up as his feet left gravel and found bitumen, as the rustle of trees was replaced with the honking of horns. He kept his head down, but he could feel the eyes of people sliding over his scars. He walked into the first hostel he found.

...

Julius was having the dream again. The sky was like molten silver, scarring him with its light. He tried to shield his body, but no matter where he hid the light slid through and burnt him. The world was white and grey, and as he ran it turned upside down, sending him spinning upwards into the acidic clouds. A soft voice laughed somewhere behind his ear and pale lightning cracked the sky. As he spun uncontrollably in the air he could see a pidgey and a bulbasaur below, one flying up towards him and the other reaching out its vines. He screamed but his vocal chords didn't work, and as the sky engulfed him the world went black and a grey amorphous blob stretched its partially digested fingers out...

Julius woke up in a sweat, staring at the wooden slats of the bunk above him. Orange streetlight crept below the curtains and stained the room in sleepless morning colours. He felt for his knife, pressed against his hip, and breathed out slowly. From one of the other beds came the dream-whining of a growlithe, probably chasing imaginary rattatas. Julius sat up, swung his legs out over the grimy carpet, and took his bag from the locker.

It was about 5am and the city was moving slowly, spearows sleeping with heads beneath their wings and the first hint of dawn slipping between buildings. Julius walked with his head bent, hands in his pockets.

Two crimson eyes peered out at him from a laneway; he met them, nodding as if in some kind of recognition. His head felt foggy, restless, as he listening to the sound of boots hitting pavement.

He'd almost reached the edge of the city when he saw the coat in the shop window. It was long and heavy, with a black hood and silver buttons. He stood still, staring at it, and then checked his watch: 5.30am. He didn't want to hang around until the shop opened, but he couldn't stop picturing himself swathed in the dark fabric, hidden from the eyes of gawkers. He shook his head as if to rid himself of the image, and kept walking.

As the buildings thinned he glimpsed trees between them, silhouetted against the sky - he must be nearing Route Eight. Beneath the glow of a Pokemon Center he turned into an alley, following the smell of the forest. Shadows fell across him, and he felt closeted, protected.

As he walked between the damp brick walls he heard a sound behind him, and turned sharply. A man with wild eyes and a scraggly beard stood in the narrow lane, wearing a lopsided grin.

"Hello, stranger," the man said, stepping towards him. Julius felt his heart racing.

"Hello."

"What brings you out on a fine morning like this?"

"None of your business." Julius' breathes were becoming shallow. His muscles tensed.

"Out looking for something to eat, maybe?" the man asked, leering.

"No." As he said it, Julius felt a pang of hunger in his stomach.

"Wouldn't happen to have any spare change for a poor old man?" the stranger said.

"No."

"Well, that's not very generous of you. And my pal Sid, he don't like it when people aren't generous."

Julius heard a growl at his heel. He looked over his shoulder, saw two red eyes and two curved, silver horns. The houndoom bared its teeth.

"Are you trying to threaten me?" Julius said, sounding braver than he felt. The man laughed.

"No, simply asking for some kindness. Do you have any to share?"

Julius stepped towards him, leaving the embrace of the shadows. The pink light from the Pokemon Center illuminated his face. He saw the man recoil, his face scrunching in disgust.

"Ugh, not a pretty one are you?" the man said.

Julius felt the anger welling up again, burning his throat, acid in his chest – he lunged forward, taking the man's collar. There was a bark and a sharp set of teeth wrapped around his ankle – he didn't care, just started punching at the sneering face. The man screamed and the two of them toppled, the houndoom clinging on. The man squirmed but Julius had him pinned, and he couldn't seem to stop slamming his fists into the contorted flesh. His breathes were ragged, spittle hanging off his lips. He reached for his hip, tore the knife from it's holster and pressed it to the man's throat.

"Call off your houndoom, or you'll get a face like mine," he whispered, his voice hoarse.

"Alright, for god's sake let off, I just wanted some food. Sid, let the maniac go."

The pressure around his ankle released, and a dull pain radiated from the wound. Julius hardly felt it – his nerves couldn't feel much anymore.

He took the blade from the man's neck, but kept it firmly in hand. "Take off your coat," he said.

"What?"

"Take off your coat, and give it to me."

"You're fucking mental."

Julius made as if to hit the man, and he flinched. "Alright, bloody hell, let me get it." Still pinned to the ground, the man wormed his way out of each arm. Julius stood, taking the coat in his free hand, still holding the knife out in front of him. He backed away down the alley.

...

The sun rose cheerily over Route Eight, returning colour to the world. Julius sat on a rocky outcrop, the stranger's smelly coat on the ground in front of him. He felt numb. His eyes were gritty and his head spun with fatigue.

He'd been sitting there for an hour, unable to move. A bloodied shirt was wrapped around his ankle, and he felt like throwing up. The events of that morning swam around in his head, disconnected and absurd. _That wasn't me_ , he thought, _that person in the alley couldn't have been_. _That was something I've seen on TV or at the movies with Clara. I'm mis-remembering because I've hardly slept._ But the coat was there, ugly in the dawn light, droplets of dried blood on the collar. The hood smelt like grease and cigarettes.

Julius started to cry. The tears rolled down and he couldn't stop them, wetting the scars that mottled his cheeks. He cried as sunlight illuminated the long grass, the dusty path where trainers would soon be prowling, laughing with their pokemon and having battles. He felt exposed, beneath the open sky and the pastel clouds. He felt as if something had been torn out of him.

At length the tears stopped, his ducts dry and his eyes rimmed with red. He felt empty, gutted. With great effort he stood, kicking dust onto the coat. It looked sad in the glow of day, tattered and abandoned. A low breeze tickled its edges. His throat felt tight.

Julius dug around in his pocket and pulled out the knife that he had thrust there. He held it flat in his palm, looking at the dull grey edge. He could see Clara's face, her scoffing laugh, inside his head, and a fresh wave of sickness overtook him. Kneeling down, he wrapped the blade in the coat, and started to dig. The dirt was cool against his bare fingers, scratching the ground like a growlithe. When the hole was dug, he placed the bundle into it, and filled it in. The disturbed patch of earth looked strangely comforting.

As he was kicking in the last bits of dirt a young trainer came up to him, a pidgey on her shoulder. "What are you doing?" she asked.

Julius wiped his eyes with one hand. "I don't know," he said. "Making a promise."

She cocked her head, unsatisfied with the answer. Julius gave her a strained smile, and walked away. It was about half an hour later when he realised that she hadn't flinched at the sight of his scars.

...

Lavender tower rose against the dusk, at the end of the path. The building was grey, swathed in mist, and dotted with tiny windows like a prison. Julius stared up at it, felt the slightest tingle down his spine. This is why he'd come - he would find what he was looking for in there, he knew it. And then he'd be able to go and get his pokemon back.

Julius hitched his bag up on his shoulders. _Time to meet my ghosts_ , he thought grimly.


End file.
